"He cheated you?"
"Cheat?" echoed Jed Spearman, "waal, no. From the way we sized it up when we got tergether this mornin', it was jest plain rob'ry. Hobbes headed this way, an' we slid inter our saddles an' follered. But we've lost the trail, an' was jest communin' with ourselves ter find out what jump ter make next, when this thing"—he waved his hand toward the aëroplane—"swung inter sight agin' the sky. We seen you three aboard the thing, an' got the fool notion that mebby Hebbes was one o' ye."
"Didn't you find out last night that you had been cheated?" asked Matt.
"Nary. If we had, pilgrim, ye kin gamble a stack we'd have took arter this Hobbes person right then. It was only this mornin' when Slim diskivered the deck o' keerds belongin' ter the feller, which same he had left behind most unaccountable, that we sensed how bad we'd been done. The' was an extry set o' aces with that pack, the backs was all readers, an' the hull lay-out was that peculiar we wasn't more'n a brace o' shakes makin' up our minds what ter do."
"What sort of a looking man was this Hobbes?"
"Dead ringer fer a cattleman, neighbor. Blue eyes, well set up, an' youngish."
Matt was surprised. He was expecting to receive a description of Murgatroyd, but the specifications did not fit the broker. Murgatroyd was a large, lean man with black, gimlet-like eyes.
"What's yer bizness in these parts?" demanded Jed Spearman. "Jest takin' a leetle fly fer the fun o' the thing?"
"Well," answered Matt, "not exactly."
"Ain't in no rush, are ye?"